


And Our Eyes Spoke

by zilchonideas



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Experimentation, F/F, First Meetings, Multi, Other, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3146243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilchonideas/pseuds/zilchonideas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something's bound to happen when you're rushing for time but stuck in a frustrating crowd. Only the spirits know what will happen to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run, run, little Coach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kesukh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesukh/gifts).



> For kesukh, who brought me here and into LoK in the first place. Their a great writer so check out their fics too :D And for YOU, good readers!

Being late is never nice, and having fallen out with your fiery ex-boyfriend over punctuality can drive the lesson home pretty hard. No one wants to lose his or her first professional job due to punctuality issues.

You are a coach for a martial arts team your ex once headed. Without their long-time leader morale is rock bottom. Even the stolid, green-eyed brother with the enthusiasm has been slacking off during training. You have to keep the team moving because the manager is breathing down your necks to win the first championship the team has qualified for.

Of all days that you didn’t want to be late, today decided to be a pain the butt, drawing out the crowd into Republic City, clogging the streets and sidewalks. You’re more pushing your way to the stadium than running, what with all the meat sacks in your way.

Your yells at the crowd to make way are drowned out by the similar shouts by others who are just as worried about punctuality as you are. You vaguely remember someone calling you something foul but when you break off from your race against time to scream at the offender, you catch nothing but a nasty image of a trailing crimson scarf.

You shake your head and continue shoving. Why is it that everyone has to go against you? It seems like you’re the only one making your way towards the stadium. Oh well, who else would go to the stadium at this point of the season other than the teams and their staff?

The pushing is starting to seem akin to emptying the sea with a bucket. You glance at your watch and groan inwardly; it looks like its time to find another job.

 _No!_ The spirits thunder at you in protest. You shake your head; it’s true, you’ve spent years of training and conditioning to make the team and became great enough to be a coach. The dough is good and can be better; once you’ve led the team to the champion’s seat. You strive to push on, wondering why Republic City has so many goddamn people.

When a bunch of humans are packed into a narrow sidewalk, accidents are bound to happen. And fate had concluded long ago that the more urgent someone has to get to somewhere, the more likely it is they meet with something that hampers their rush.

A flash of green among the blacks and greys of the office workers draws your attention towards it. You stop in your tracks just as the pinpricks of green light notice your electric-blue eyes among the browns and whites of the blue-collar workers.

The crowd seems to disappear. No, the crowd seems to be absorbed by the presence of the other. It’s as if all the beautiful colors in the world had decided to converge onto just this one person.

Red, green, gold and black. With the black, she was almost hidden from sight, almost lost in the crowd were it not for the other three colors. While the blacks of the others made them fade into the background, the black that is part of her swirls with the other colors and blows her out of proportion, which was what enabled you to spot the green that was her eyes in the first place.

The red splotches that accent her jacket and the crimson lipstick that adorns her full lips does not remind you of your ex’s preferred color when it came to attire. This kind of red feels more warm than fiery. The difference between a campfire and a bonfire is that the former is cozier and safer to sit next to.

The gold that laces the glove she has on shimmers and dance for your eyes. This gold was meant for others to look at, to know that gold lace belonged to her, to the well to do. Yet it does not seem arrogant or dangerous to wear openly. On her, it seems like the gold has to be on _her_ to look good.

Green, when did such a sickly color become something so beautiful? Those eyes among the millions of browns, blacks and blues stand out. Something your ex once said unwittingly springs into your mind.

Only two percent of the world’s population has natural green eyes. You remember the brother having green eyes as well but something about her tells you that she deserves to be born with green eyes; any other color would’ve been wasted on her beauty.

She seems to have noticed the lightning strikes in your own eyes, rooting her on the spot and forcing the crowd to cleave their way past her, earning the two of you dirty looks and disgruntled muttering. At least no one yells. You blink, wondering if the image in front of you is real. The person is real, and her attention focuses on the arms you are proud of.

Blushing and turning around is the best way to go. You have a training session to facilitate, and judging from her briefcase, she probably has somewhere to go too. To focus your embarrassment somewhere else, you shove someone a little too hard and they fall, causing the chain reaction that you get after toppling the first domino. Congratulations, you’ve fulfilled your stereotype of more brawn than brain to her.

But the fall of others cleared the path for a few seconds, giving the two of you full view of each other. When you grin sheepishly to shake off the shame, an in-bred reaction, she smiles apologetically, transmitting through her expression and those green, green eyes _I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have stared at you._

You shake your head, sheepish grin turning into a genuine smile, and the first since the breakup. As the crowd slowly recovers from the fall, the two of you realize the limited amount of time you have left.

You probably won’t see her again, for the two of you are just ones among the millions that is a crowd yet the breathless gaze that you two shared would always matter in the many seconds to come. As the crowd stands and continues their long, dreary journey, the two of you share one last second of a gaze. You try the same trick she did, straining her eyes to say _I hope to see you again_. When she shrugs and smiles before turning her back, you know she got the message.


	2. Future Heiress, Where art Thou?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rule #? of the Universe: When you're late for a business meeting, your car will break down.  
> Rule #? of the Universe: When you're running late for a business meeting on foot, a crowd will gather
> 
> And sometimes, something can appear that will make it all seem...well, less bad.

Of all days for your car to break down, it had to be today. Even the best skills that your father had so painstakingly imparted into you fails you for today, evidenced by the defiant coughs the car continues to make as you kick it in a final resort. Walking with a limp won’t get you to work any time soon.

And what a day for work it is. The board directors and your father are discussing your future today when everyone already knew what will happen. You are the future for Future Industries and it has been set in stone since you were born. But everyone has their doubts and you are no exception.

You groan as you muscle your way onto the sidewalk, joining the daily crowd. You don’t remember it being this crowded because you have a car, or rather, had. With a collective breath, you dive into the sea of uniformity and bleakness.

You have always been one with a slender frame, but the sheer amount of people is threatening to crush you into a stick insect. You start to worry about your briefcase, filled with your new design for Future Industries. You’ve spent days and long nights on developing a more fuel-efficient Satomobile for your father; should a single crease appear on those precious blueprints, there would be hell to pay.

Keeping your briefcase in front of you, much akin to a lance, you begin your foray into the ominous crowd.

The noise was unbearable. For the sheer amount of people, the noise came not from the prattle of their mouths but the steady clicks and clacks of the footwear of the people. If you listen closely, sometimes the cacophony of footsteps merge into a single loud crack.

The stares begin. You nod your face once, letting several locks of hair fall to  mask your face, preventing the curious from confirming your identity. Bad enough that you'll always be known as your father's daughter, you don't want to make the headlines as a mugging victim now, do you?

Thinking of being attacked leads one to reach for their best defense. In this case, your hand-made glove that your father approved of in his teachings on self-defense. The first product, ideated, designed and built by yourself, is your pride and joy. Combining the innocence of a cosmetic with the potent energy stored in a minuscule crystal, your glove is just itching for someone to try you.

You then realize that you are darting your eyes left and right at such a pace that you learn that you are paranoid. On hindsight, perhaps it was not the best idea to fit gold lace as your glove's trimming. Gold attracts only people with evil intent like flies.

For extra measure, you put in more effort in your shoving, bowing your head to act as a makeshift shield so less people can see your all too recognizable face. On foresight, perhaps it would be best to tone down the make-up from now on.

Through the cacophony of footsteps and murmuring, you hear the first curse of someone who had lost their patience to the crowd. You're not the only one to crane your head towards the commotion but no other voice rose to the challenge. Some of the murmurings changed to mutterings about patience and youngsters. You bristle at the second wave of mutterings. Having been looked down upon by slimy relics of board directors, the mutterings stir your ire.

When you look up to chastise those who insulted the younger generation, to hell with them recognizing you, you notice the crowd parting in front of you. It seems that someone is defying all sense and pushing away from the skyscrapers that are the office of many, heading towards the old stadium behind you.

You see her shoving her way through the crowd, her head still turned back for whatever reason. She stands out because of her opposing the tide of flesh and resignation. She stands out because from her dressing, far too warmly that she should be melting, she clearly isn't from around these parts.

She stands out because she stops and stares right into your eyes with electrifying intensity, rooting you to the spot. No one has ever directed a haze of such magnitude towards her.

You have been subjected under a smattering of gazes in your life. The first of many came from the monster that swallowed your mother. He had been contemplating whether to have you as seconds when your father finally arrived home to save you, but too late to rescue the woman who had nurtured you for six short years.

That gaze had been hungry, savage, more akin to a feral beast than an actual human being. Nonetheless, no human could ever perform such a deed in front of a child.

Another gaze you remember is when your father announced his decision not to re-marry in front of the board. By naming you as his heiress afterwards, he had skimmed over many more exprienced and older men qualified for the title of heir.

The gaze came from your father, one filled with pride and promise. He had trained you for more than a decade in all fields; you are more than ready for the job. That gaze fueled you to ensure you will always get gazes like that from your father in the future. The blueprints in your briefcase and your other accomplishments as heiress-in-training are proof of your efforts.

And there were the gazes of greed and jealousy. Greed came from the clients and fawners who thought you more swayable than your father. You taught those people what you thought of their intentions but you have always been distrustful for the past year or two after the endless stream of such people.

Jealousy. You don't go a day without being subjected to gazes of envy. From the board directors, the female workers who wanted to be you, and the men who cast their eyes on you when you are forced to bring a date to your father's various functions. You dearly want all these people to step into your shoes for a day and hope that they will find that your job isn't as heaven-sent as they think it is.

This girl’s gaze, however, displays none of that. Her eyes are a melting pot of emotions. Resignation, determination, surprise, and attraction; these are the ones most prominent in the girl's eyes, flitting in and out like the many business deals you go through everyday.

Resignation. Perhaps it is because it was trying to hide from your gaze that made it stand out even more in this girl’s eyes. You cannot tell what it is but sympathy wells inside you; there were many a time you had resigned yourself to being just your father’s daughter.

Then the determination. That was when you decided to cast off your father’s shadow and work to have yourself recognized. You see the same subsequent determination you get every time after recovering from the resignation of feeling your father’s shadow looming over you. The time for helplessness is long gone.

You glance to your left and right. All you see are people angrily shoving past you. In reality, you have stopped in your tracks to meet the gaze of the dark-skinned beauty in front of you. Then it hits you; the girl’s surprise and attraction were being directed at you.

Something sparks inside you. It definitely has something to do with the girl’s lightning blue eyes. Your own eyes wander down to avoid that penetrating gaze; you do not feel worthy of having such a tender yet passionate gaze being directed at you. As a result, you catch the sight of sleeveless, corded arms and a fitting tank top, displaying a spectacular show of fitness to you.

You take in a breath and she does the same, lean body rising and falling with a little bump. The girl turns her head away, even though you can still spy her cheeks darkening. You hold back. Maybe your own staring has intimidated her?

Your far-fetched guess proves to be right as the girl turns back but not to gaze at you again with those blue, blue eyes but to power her way forwards, crashing into someone a little too hard and bowling over a half dozen people, causing a chain reaction among the crowd within a ten-people radius. Your eyes whirs to take in the reactions of everyone falling, falling and falling.

But she refused to go down like the rest. Still standing ramrod straight, she turns and grins at you sheepishly, like an unabashed child grinning at a furious parent after a nasty ming vase accident. You hastily arrange your face into one of reassurance, giving the girl the ol’ special whites to tell her everything’s good.

She shakes her head in acceptance of your acceptance of her being a klutz, sheepish grin growing into a full smile, complete with the corner of her lips curling upwards, giving you a lopsided view of her teeth. Then you notice the groans of those recuperating from a brief fall.

Clutching your briefcase tightly, wishing the crowd would get to their feet just a little bit slower, you look up again at the girl. She had noticed the crowd as well. She nods her head and looks at you again, eyes now copying the reassurance you are so used to having on your face, telling you Maybe we’ll see each other again.

The crowd starts to drive you away from her. You shrug to emphasize on the Maybe and smile one more time. Even if she couldn’t see you do so, you promise yourself one thing as the crowd hides both of you from each other.

You’ll find her again. Everyone eventually finds someone, don’t they?

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I promised myself to update this fic four days ago but what can you do when you're bedridden with a high fever? Ah well, what matters is that I'm back :) As usual, all comments, feedback and criticism will be greatly appreciated and taken into consideration.


	3. Take a Break, Officer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a break, even a super-serious, broody policeman who ran out on the team which consists of his ex-girlfriend, his brother and Broody Mcbrooderson.

Shifting from the coach of the underdog rookie team in the league to being a beat cop with your beat in a backwater district can be a total letdown. Looking back, perhaps storming out of the locker room on your brother and ex wasn’t the best of ideas.

But what can you do, really. Everyone had been giving you problems during the final days of your coaching. Your ex had been grilling on you being too serious; your brother’s too busy being stuck in the clouds with girls out of his league and the manager’s breathing down your neck for the ante and training. Your shoulders may be broad but they are not broad enough to carry the burdens left on them.

Besides, Chief Beifong had always been after you for your skills and seriousness, something the other three fail to notice as something good. Maybe that’s why you’ve joined the force, to finally report to someone and work with people who have seriousness as part of their lives.

And Republic City’s citizens could use a little more seriousness in their lives. Apprehending petty criminals aren’t much different from dragging your brother away from a woman leagues away from him. You had always been by his side, after your parents’ deaths and the setbacks the team faced.

With a bitter pang, you realize you _had_ always been by your brother’s side. Now he’s refusing to talk to you because of your own hypocrisy and abrasiveness. When it came to the serious department, Bolin will always be the intern, with you as the big boss.

Hypocrisy. Before the break, you wrongly assumed that your brother didn’t know the meaning of such a word. Then again, your brother is a master in surprises. Adopting a ferret, asking your once-girlfriend out and going for an acting audition when the team had to focus on getting into the championship, those were just the little things.

While your brother may be wrong on many counts, he is right about one thing; you _are_ a filthy hypocrite. Never date someone out of your league? Ha! You did just that after driving your brother away from countless other women who are out of both your leagues combined. Now you’re both miserable, what with him not being his bubbly, womanizing self and you out of the team.

Perhaps being a beat cop wasn’t such a good idea after all.

You smack yourself on the helmet, clearing your defeatist thoughts. Dragging your latest catch towards the waiting truck, your eyes catch the ripped up banner hanging over the shop you just cased with your colleagues. The banner may have seen its last display but its slogan is still evident to your keen amber eyes.

“Get ready to rumble tonight with the nation’s finest!”

You turn to see a colleague, rubbing his baldpate off sweat. He chortles at you, asking the obvious of your past career. You grunt in response, just seeing the banner leaves a bitter tang in your mouth and you’re thirsty after a long day. Shrugging off the mediocre interrogation, you climb into the truck with the prisoners, putting on your ‘cool and scary police officer’ look. The people in the back are never happy with you.

While you would never admit it, Chief Lin is sort of an idol to you. Of course, you would never collect newspaper clippings of her successes as Chief of Police and hide them under your pillow but no has proven otherwise…yet.

She’s sharp, as a Chief of Police would be, and had already called you out on your needless admiration. Normally you would chafe at being ordered about but that just applies to your manager. Chief Lin is a completely different story. She oozes leadership, a quality that you find yourself lacking when you stand next to her.

You never feel superior to the others, just that they could take things a little more seriously. While you aren’t the best leader in the championships (you can at least admit that, can you?), you know for sure that the others in the team would send all of you down to the dumpster for forgotten names and fighters.

Where would you start with your brother? Self-proclaiming himself a ladies’ man is not the way to be a leader. Shifting his attention to your ex the instant she wandered into the locker room, also not the best of moves. Granted, you and your ex only met for the first time that night, but it still did not give an excuse to for your brother to ‘make his move’ right before their qualifying match.

Then again, while your brother has his faults, his biggest weakness is his greatest strength as well. He is the one who keeps everyone going, even your dour ex-teammate Hasook. Even though Hasook is a competent fighter, his attitude and mood swings made him a liability in the end, almost costing the team several matches. Thanks to the bright spirit that is your brother, he kept your moody teammate in the team, knowing that finding a replacement fighter on short notice is impossible.

What about your untimely breakup? Your brother tried to keep you on the team too, misquoting his favorite love phrases to fit the brotherly talk. Treating you to a sumptuous dinner, taking precious money out of his pocket to speak to you? That’s something only a brother would do.

The paperwork in front of you is now wet. Not soaked but just enough that the words have smudged. You are angry with yourself, showing weakness in the station. Glaring at the curious to reinstate your reputation as the serious rookie with ambition, you bend over the paperwork.

As a rookie, it is up to you to handle your superiors’ paperwork in addition to your own. You don’t complain; it is unseemly to complain in front of Chief Lin. Besides, everyone has to start from somewhere, and if that start involves sorting poorly written statements and mitigation letters, you’d have it rather than being on a team with your ex.

You only speak your first words on the night shift when Chief Lin calls your name. All that energy lost in the hours of scribbling come rushing back as you shoot up to salute your idol and inquire of her business with you. A flyer, similar to the banner you saw before returning to the station, floats down on your desk.

You cringe. While the faces on the banner had been torn beyond recognition, the flyer is intact, showing off the proud new faces coming into the championship. You recognize a lopsided grin, bright green eyes, a dour face and someone else you don’t recognize.

Your eyes widen in shock. She did conjure up a replacement for you in the weeks since you left. From the looks of the replacement, he didn’t even seem championship material. That stance, even if it is for a photo-shoot, is off track! With a slight shake of disapproval, you listen in interest and subsequent apprehension as Chief Lin speaks about appointing a security detail for the championship.

On one hand, you would love to see your replacement screw up your (former, you always have to remind yourself about that) team’s first chance at the championship. On the other, you just cannot forget that lopsided grin, those bright green eyes and the dour face. You want to see them in person but would a personal visit to the locker room suffice? Don’t even think about it, it would just be awkward. Security detail, Chief Lin has given you a perfect way to see them again.

It wouldn’t hurt to see them again, would it? One last look at the flyer seals the deal; who would refuse that lopsided grin? You nod and salute Chief Lin, because you’re all for seeing them again. Even you have to give the serious, broody leader image a rest every now and then, shouldn’t you?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! This is my first contribution to not just the LoK fandom, but the Korrasami ship (*cheers in the distance) Also, I'm not a very good writer so I've picked out what I think is my best one shot of my two baes and put it up here :D
> 
> Constructive feedback and criticism is always welcome. I look forward to getting excited with you all on Korrasami :3


End file.
